


Older Brother

by kythen



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Childbirth, Gen, Spoilers, ft jafar the midwife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 00:17:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2289995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kythen/pseuds/kythen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>By the age of ten, Ja'far is used to blood in all its forms, be it spilling from the open cavity where a man's head used to be or encrusted along the edge of his blades when he doesn't get enough time to tend to them. But nothing in all his ten years of living nor in the few months of Rurumu's lessons could have ever prepared him for this.</p>
  <p>Childbirth is outright <em>terrifying</em>.</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	Older Brother

**Author's Note:**

> Originally intended to be an entry for Magi Week Day 7: Family but I didn't manage to make it in time.
> 
> Spoilers for Sinbad no Bouken 33 onwards.

By the age of ten, Ja'far is used to blood in all its forms, be it spilling from the open cavity where a man's head used to be or encrusted along the edge of his blades when he doesn't get the time to tend to them. But nothing in all his ten years of living nor in the few months of Rurumu's lessons could have ever prepared him for this.

Childbirth is outright _terrifying_.

Unsurprisingly, it is all chaos on the ship when Rurumu pauses in the middle of a mid-day lecture, her eyes glazing over and her mouth falling open in an 'o'. Distracted by the sudden silence, Ja'far looks up at her and then looks down at the dark stain seeping through the wood of the deck under her. It takes precisely two seconds for him to understand and in that time, his body has already started to move, his table thrown to the side and scattering scrolls across the deck.

"HINAHOHO!" Ja'far yells, flying to Rurumu's side. "Your wife's going into labour!"

There is a crash in the distance and Ja'far hears Hinahoho before he sees him, bursting onto the scene looking equal parts terrified and excited. As he lifts Rurumu up gently and heads towards the cabin, Ja'far dashes ahead of him and nearly rips the door off its hinges in his haste to get in. In the doorway, he runs straight into Vittel who catches him by the shoulders and steers him towards a newly cleared space in the middle of the room.

"Calm down, ch– Ja'far." says his ex-subordinate. "We got everything ready."

"I am calm." Ja'far retorts instantly. His eyes fall on the sheets spread out on their usual sleeping area and the piles of sheets folded meticulously beside that. It looks like all the cloth they have on board is gathered here at this very spot. There is a basin of water and a knife too, all neatly laid out by the sheets, and he tries not to think too much about the latter as Hinahoho eases through the doorway with Rurumu in his arms. Rurumu had been meticulous about preparing all members of their crew for this moment and even without her firm guidance now, Ja'far can see her handiwork imprinted in everyone's minds. He turns to thank Vittel and what comes out of his mouth is "Get out now."

Vittel nods, unfazed. "Do your best, Ja'far." He leaves and Ja'far takes a deep breath, trying to wrap his mind around the absurdity of this situation.

A year ago, if he had been told that he, the head assassin of the best assassin guild in Parthevia, would be helping a pregnant Imuchakk woman deliver her child, he probably would have laughed himself sick then stabbed whoever was unfortunate enough to tell him something as ridiculous as that. But here he is, hands hastily but meticulously cleaned, standing at the foot of the makeshift bed and the worst part of it all is that he actually knows what to do. There has to be a joke in here but he can't seem to find the punchline.

"Okay, first of all, Hinahoho, I need you to _back off_." Ja'far growls, narrowing his eyes at the man hovering anxiously by his shoulder. "I can't do shit if you're going to be standing around like my very own portable wall. Go sit by your wife and don't fucking move."

"Ja'far, language!" Rurumu chides, all serenity even with her hair matted against her face and her words coming out strained. She is in obvious pain and Ja'far shifts his focus to her, his eyebrows knitting together in concentration as he counts the seconds between her contractions. They still have a bit of time left so he directs Hinahoho to wipe her face clean of perspiration and keep her as comfortable as possible. Hinahoho leans in to murmur something in his wife's ear, his large hands enveloping one of hers, and she fixes her gaze on him even as she rides out the next contraction.

Ja'far hears the word "mother" exchanged between the both of them and he shifts uncomfortably, taking a step back to give them both their privacy. Although Rurumu had called him her precious first son, he still feels like an intruder in all of this. He is not related to her by blood – he isn't even Imuchakk by birth – and he is a murderer to boot. Someone like him did not belong in their family, with someone as kind-hearted as Rurumu or Hinahoho.

He would wait until they had their first child, the one due in just a few mere minutes. Then they would see that he just didn't fit into their happy, little family.

The next hour finds Ja'far with his hands slipping in blood, the front of his clothes just one big smear of red and an unusually large baby on its way out. This is the first time he has seen Rurumu so distraught and there is this growing panic that rises up in him in response to her pain. Still, his hands are steady as he grasps her child and his voice is unusually calm as he talks her through the process. His words are her words, taught to him in between classes on literature and commerce. In these past few months, he has learnt more about childbirth than he has ever wanted to know and while it had been torture listening to Rurumu, he is glad now that he had paid attention to her lessons.

"Just a bit more," Ja'far coaxes as the baby slips out a few inches more and he has to rearrange his hold on it to accommodate its weight.

Rurumu groans and Hinahoho is there, his eyes flitting from his wife's face to the child in Ja'far's arms and back again. Every now and then, he makes as if to get up and go over to Ja'far but the combination of Rurumu's crushing grip on him and Ja'far's glares keep him anchored to Rurumu's side.

" _Stay there!_ " Ja'far snarls when Hinahoho looks like he wants to stand again. "Don't you dare leave her side until I get your kid out of her."

"But-"

"You're almost there!" Ja'far turns his focus back on mother and child, his tone shifting into one of encouragement instantly. "Just one last–"

A violent shudder wracks Rurumu's body and Ja'far buckles under the full weight of one very heavy and slimy baby. He might not be an expert on childbirth and children, but he is pretty sure that babies didn't usually come in this size. It must be an Imuchakk thing, he decides, struggling to hold on as the baby wriggles slightly in his arms. There is a cord of flesh and blood connecting the newborn baby boy with his mother and Ja'far knows that he needs to cut this. The only problem is that having a baby who is about the same size as him in his arms lowers his manoeuvrability drastically; it is all he can do to stay on his feet and focus on not dropping Rurumu's newborn son.

Hands steady him as he totters back and forth, trying to find his centre of balance now that he has so much extra weight on his hands, and he looks up into Hinahoho's face. "You look like you're going to cry." Ja'far informs him and Hinahoho breaks out into a watery chuckle. "Oh Solomon, you are crying, aren't you?"

Hinahoho sniffs and wipes at his eyes with the heels of his palms. "Who wouldn't in a situation like this? It's all part of being a father." He speaks the word "father" with barely contained joy, his hands reverent as he reaches out towards his newborn son.

With the absence of a baby, squirming and warm against his blood-soaked shirt, Ja'far can move again but when he leans over to pick up the knife, he cannot feel his movements. There is a vacuum inside him, cold air rushing through his hollowed limbs in place of warm, pulsating blood.

_Mother._

It is a word screamed by someone who sounds a lot like him, echoing in a dark place deep within.

_Father._

He had been crying over people who had died four years ago, the very knife that had been driven through their chests shaking in his hands, hands that are slick with the very same blood that runs in his veins.

Now, there is blood on his hands again, on his shirt, on his skin and Ja'far raises the knife, the muscles in his arms lined with purpose–

–and its sharpened edge meets flesh, severing the cord of flesh between mother and son.

Hinahoho flashes him a smile brimming with gratitude and takes over the job of wiping his newborn son down with a damp cloth, pausing every now and then to revel in the soft warmth of his child. Ja'far places the knife down beside the basin and his hands are very decidedly not trembling. He equips himself with a damp cloth of his own and tends to Rurumu, whose body goes limp as all the tension escapes from her like a sail in the absence of wind.

Beside him, Hinahoho finishes up and clumsily wraps his son in layers of sheets, lurching towards his wife with his son in his arms. Ja'far averts his eyes. He works quickly and methodically, switching cloths once the one he has is soiled and dumping it in a pile for Mahad and Vittel to deal with later. This is not his place. He is not their son and they are not his father and mother. He is no one's son, no matter what Rurumu says, her words full of so much sincerity that it hurts.

His job done, he wraps all the soiled cloth in a bundle and dumps it in the basin, pushing it into a corner of the cabin so that no one trips on it later. He'll tell Mahad or Vittel to collect it once Rurumu and Hinahoho have settled down with their baby; he's handled enough blood for today. Quietly, he gets to his feet and prepares to retreat from the cabin.

"Ja'far?" Rurumu's voice stops him in his tracks, his body already angled towards the door. "Where are you going?"

He doesn't turn to face her, but he can see her moving out of the corner of his eyes. "Out." he tells her. She really shouldn't be moving that much after giving birth. He knows that she is strong but  _still_.

Rurumu lifts herself up into a sitting position and Hinahoho shifts to brace her from behind, easing her into the curve of his body. In Rurumu's arms, their child babbles to himself nonsensically, his eyes wide as he takes in this brand new world. "Why?" she asks, her eyes trained on him, gently questioning. She has always been able to see right through him.

Ja'far fidgets under her gaze then deflates, mumbling, "I don't belong here."

Her eyes soften at the uncertainty in his voice. "Oh, Ja'far." There is a touch of underlying sadness in her voice and Ja'far feels his heart drop. He didn't mean to make her sad. "Come here."

He doesn't want to, not while he looks like he just returned from the midst of a battlefield and he feels like an intruder in their midst, but his traitorous legs walk him over to her side. As he drops to his knees, Rurumu eases an arm out from under her baby and pulls Ja'far into her embrace. His back protests and he is squashed uncomfortably against a newborn baby who is not much smaller than him, but he does not fight her as she rests a warm hand on his head.

"You've been worrying about this, haven't you?" Rurumu murmurs, her fingers stroking his hair. "I've told you this before: You are a part of this family and you are our son, and I will always love you. Having another child won't change this."

Ja'far doesn't trust himself to speak so he nods instead, his face pressed against Rurumu's shoulder and his hands clinging to her front. His eyes are prickling and he squeezes them shut, willing the tears away because it isn't like him to get all over-emotional like this. He had never been this prone to crying before and he blames Sinbad and the stupid family that he built up on this ship for this. Assassins didn't cry, but neither did they assist in childbirth so he supposes that he isn't really a good assassin any longer.

He hears gurgling in his right ear and he yelps as something wet touches the side of his face. Big, bright amber eyes sparkle up at him as he turns to face the culprit and the newborn child sticks a pudgy fist out at him, his thumb freshly out of his mouth. Ja'far grimaces at the sight but he doesn't pull away. His eyes are watery but there is nothing clean on him to wipe them with so he settles for blinking furiously and scowling at the baby when it coos delightedly at him.

Ja'far juts his chin out, aggression in the set of his jaw as he stares the newborn child down. "What?"

"He's happy to meet you." Rurumu mediates. "He's very lucky to have an older brother waiting for him to be born."

"Even if his older brother doesn't exactly look that much older than himself." Hinahoho teases, safe behind Rurumu as Ja'far glowers up at him.

"I'm not much of an older brother." Ja'far mumbles half-heartedly, keeping just out of reach of a saliva-coated hand.

"Nonsense." Rurumu insists. "He's very lucky to have you. Not many children can claim to have had their older brother deliver them."

"It's a dubious honour." Ja'far mutters, but there is no bite behind his words. When he looks at the healthy newborn in Rurumu's arms, a sort of pride swells up within his chest.

Rurumu nudges him and Ja'far finds himself within reach of grubby hands, which he surprisingly doesn't mind as much as he thought he would. "Say hello to your little brother." Rurumu urges, a smile wide on her face.

Ja'far takes a deep breath then, hesitatingly, "Hello. I'm Ja'far, your older brother.”

**Author's Note:**

> Everything about childbirth was googled because I know nothing.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
